


Embers

by kabetsu_lettuce



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Bonding, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Thermite's sister, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Thermite keeps getting distarcted by memories of her, mentions of family loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabetsu_lettuce/pseuds/kabetsu_lettuce
Summary: Thermite struggles while working on Maverick's torch, his mind only focuses on the past and the painful memories that come with it. Maverick decides to investigate when his teammate spends a little too long at the workshop with the gadget. Both bond over their respective breaching methods.
Relationships: Erik "Maverick" Thorn/Jordan "Thermite" Trace
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks, this can be seen as ship-y or not, whichever you prefer! I just think these two would make a nice pair, their dynamic seems interesting to me, I have a soft spot for them! And I have played with many Mav's that are pretty happy to help me as Thermite get rid of jammers and batteries to breach hahaha So I have a soft spot for the combo (looking at you, consulate garage)  
> You can also find me gushing about more ops on tumblr (kabetsuhead) :D I hope you all enjoy this self indulgent fic!

Trembling.

It didn’t make its way into Thermite’s system often. But here he was, holding one end of the unfinished wrapping before both limbs decided it was a wiggly kind of Wednesday. Trembling Thermite? He huffed out a laugh, from frustration or at his own joke he would never know. Yet just as quickly as the movement shocked him it was gone, leaving behind an uncomfortable heat stubbornly clinging to his palms. Thermite took a sharp breath, attempting to clear his head. He had to focus, he promised he would take a look at the equipment before him, but his damned dressings decided to start unwrapping now, just as he was about to take it apart. 

The old gadget sat innocently on the workbench, it might as well be sitting in the middle of his organs. Why did he even have to examine it? Thermite was more than sure the intelligent man that taught himself a multitude of languages could very well fix his own torch, two years in the desert probably taught him at least self reliance. But Maverick reaching out in general was rare, so Thermite was pretty happy to be of help since the blonde seemed immune to his jokes and friendly banter. But his well organized toolbox and clean workbench now just felt like a mockery as he sat there, his mind in and out of memories instead of the current task.

He bit at the side of his cheek, pushing away images of laughter, and long black hair purposefully flicked on his face, the scent matching his own cheap shampoo. Why did he have to remember now? 

_“Give it here! I am the specialist for this one!” A rough yet smaller hand shoved him gently to the side as the stubborn engineer stuck her hands deep in the gutted, muddy pick-up truck. He only grumbles something about knowing his own car best but still he stood aside._

_“I bet she can still do more push ups!” That laughter again rang through his ears, his shorts strands affectionately ruffled as he showed off his most recent medal, the pride in both sets of eyes making him more choked up than the old generals droning on at the ceremony._

He remembers how much his face hurt from smiling that day. Thermite wasn’t smiling to himself now, the flashes only brought bitter taste in his mouth and _why did he have to be remembering this now_. He grabbed at the loose end of the bandage again, wrapping the damned thing around his palm with a little more force than usual, hoping the pressure and pain would distract him but he couldn't feel it.… the influx of ifs, whats, and hows flooded his brain instead, a fog of behind his eyes that constricted his throat. The pain. The _regret_. 

_It should have been--_ His thoughts were cut short as a door clicking open registered. 

Maverick stood in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob and a soft smile playing at his lips that quickly disappeared when he saw Thermite, hunched over the bench, arms barely holding him up, knuckles white holding the corners of the table.

Thermite looked up, his head feeling much heavier, heavier than with the ballistic helmet on, plus his face felt uncomfortably warm.

“Jordan, are you alright?” 

“Well, I have taken a few lefts in my life!” The frown from the blonde quickly shut down the cheeky smile Thermite prepared. He gave a defeated laugh, a gentler smile pulling at his lips. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering why you were staring down my torch like a gargoyle,” Maverick returned the smile, curiously examining the intact gadget on the table as he approached, letting the door shut behind him. Thermite threw his hands in the air with a shrug.

“Listen, I was fixin’ to get my tools, and maybe the pose is how I decipher what’s wrong!” _She could have taken it apart faster._

“Really?” Maverick raised a single eyebrow at him, now standing beside the Texan, his gaze was probably meant to be casual, a simple playful skepticism, but Thermite’s mind was still in and out of la la land apperently. He was really trying to focus here, tell Maverick why his torch might be malfunctioning, but his eyes were prickling, he could feel the wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes and _fucking shit_ this was reaaaaally not the time. He turned away from the blonde, casually, to glance to the side towards his smaller tools, reaching for the closest screwdriver. Anything to prevent the man next to him from seeing his face. _She always adjusted the lamp first. He already messed up._

Thermite opened his mouth, to dismiss, to joke, to shoo those soft blue eyes away from the workshop so he could pull his damned self together. But a strong hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Jordan?” Thermite could feel his jaw tensing, fighting to provide a smile he couldn’t quite find yet. He gave a polite nod to the blonde, lips in a thin line. Maverick had finally trusted him to help, he couldn’t fail him now, he just needed time. Time. How long had he been staring blankly at the torch? 

“My bad, Erik. I promise I ain’t all hat and no cattle,” He gave a strained smile still avoiding the piercing eyes. “Give me a minute or two and this thing will be kicking again!” He slapped Maverick’s arm in a friendly gesture, he reached down for his little forgotten tool box sitting on the floor next to the table, fumbling it open and taking decidedly too long rummaging around it, he needed an out, not only from his memories but now from the intense presence that was Maverick. 

“You have been here a little while.” Maverick spoke calmly, evenly, his voice was strangely soothing. “If you needed help, with anything, you know my room is close to the FBI wing.”

Thermite remembered why it was a little harder for him to talk to Maverick. The man seemed allergic to rolling with the jokes or casualness. Or perhaps it was that he simply saw the message behind the words too easily. No, what was annoying was that the blonde wasn’t like this with everyone. Maverick would talk easily with Pulse, Ash, and even go back and forth with some of Castle’s fun stories on travelling. But any easy banter he made on the field would meet the blonde, tattooed, brick wall in a dry crash. He bitterly remembers cracking a perfectly timed remark on his left arm being weaker before getting shot exactly there, Maverick had not been amused, even Doc had given a chortle as he rushed to him. 

“Don’t throw invitations out so easily,” Thermite said with a chuckle. “When I start showing up after poker night with your broken torch you ain’t going to be singing that same song!” 

“I don’t.” The man said softly, the small smile still on his lips. “Morowa went out to the pub with the SAS guys.” He added almost conversationally. 

“Thought that was their Friday thing?” Thermite examined the different screw head he dug out, why the hell did the torch have such tiny parts. 

“Seems like Porter is the superstitious type.”

“Oh, what?” Thermite shot him a confused look.

“Friday fell on the 13th,” Maverick was speaking slowly, calculating every word as one would measure their opponents movements before a punch or maybe it was all in Thermite’s head. “They decided Saturday would do.” And he struck. 

June 14th. 

_Her birthday._

Oh. He had completely forgotten.

That was a lie. 

He always tried to forget. Forget his own sister’s birthday. It hurt too much to remember. A barrage of his own insults stabbed at him swiftly. 

They never did anything too grand back at home, mostly because she never cared much for gifts apart from trying to find the most disgustingly sweet cake she could get her hands on, even after all those years and remarks on her age. They both always watched in glee as their parents revolted at the sight of the quadruple chocolate fudge or whatever new sugar crime they bought. They would shop for hours together, she always did dumb things just to get to eat mo-- 

Thermite snapped back to where he was, looking back at Maverick’s unreadable expression before the latter decided to continue on. 

“She won’t be back for a while. Do you mind if I watch you work?” Blue met blue, Maverick holding his gaze. “It will be useful so I don’t have to bother you with it again.” The Texan mulled over the words for a bit.

The blonde seemed intent on throwing curve balls at him and usually Thermite could quickly adapt. Simply changing his approach which seemed to intrigue Maverick as well, causing them to interact more often. But this day was anything but usual. It’s not like he couldn’t keep up, but there was something about the calmness of Maverick, his almost knowing tone, Thermite’s desperate heart wanted to reach out. He really wasn’t alright. He now knew he wasn’t alright one bit. 

“Sure!” Thermite said easily despite himself, he needed a distraction. He needed to focus on something he was good at and not the myriad of questions and thoughts that plagued his mind. _Her birthday._ It still stung. It burned. 

Thermite first took the tank off, placing the part in a metallic box a little ways from the bench. Focusing on the small nozzle, he brought a wrench close before his hand began shaking. It was subtle, as if a chill continuously ran through him, he pushed through and Maverick did not acknowledge it. The small metal piece seemed mostly fine apart from a surface dent. He briefly mentioned it to Maverick to ensure he kept track of it in case it did become a weak point in the metal, the man only nodding curtly. That’s how they spent their repair session, Thermite looking at parts and Maverick occasionally acknowledging comments or answering questions about the gadget. 

Having someone talk through the work was starting to relax him, his hands had stopped shaking a while back as Maverick kept up the menial conversation. Every once in a while he would bring up a concern with the torch and although Thermite wasn’t the expert he would throw ideas here and there which evolved to both conversing about increasingly ridiculous ideas of how to use explosives and fuel on the field as Thermite gently cleaned the materials and neatly laid them out on the table. It helped. It really helped. The usual banter and casualness came easily to Thermite again, although now the blonde seemed to humour him and go along with some of it. Maverick was surprisingly creative when it came to ideas of sneaking into places while using volatile substances and fire, he seemed unperturbed at the idea of crawling around near melting metal and Thermite wanted to burst out laughing at the idea of the tall blonde wedging himself into a melting vent, shimmying around, weapon in hand.

It was okay, he was okay. He breathed a little easier. 

Thermite looked up, ready to throw the next crazy idea when he met the gentle eyes again and he lost his train of thought, Maverick was smiling back at him, which wasn’t helping. He snapped his attention back to the torch, feeling his face warming ever so slightly, he instead focused on putting the metal pieces back together and narrating the process. Maverick looked at him curiously, but didn’t mention the strange pause as he peered over his shoulder as the torch was becoming whole again. 

“Any plans other than gluing Jack’s mug to the sink?” That startled Thermite, fumbling with a metallic tube.

“Wait, how--” Maverick simply raised an eyebrow at him, Thermite could of sworn that was a damn smirk on his face. "Well, apart from helping Jack find the perpetrator,” he said with a wink, ignoring the fact that Maverick had to have been up at the insane hours of Thermite’s insomnia episodes. “I saw these double toffee chocolate cupcakes with creamy condensed milk frosting and sprinkles the other day,” Thermite waited for the inevitable scrunch in the blonde’s face, the disgust at the killing sweetness making the Texan laugh. “Yeah, I can already hear Doc’s nagging if he catches a whiff of it. Bet Julien would support me though!” Thermite handed back the torch with a perplexed stare. “Also, I didn’t see anything wron--” 

“You should show me that sweet monstrosity some time, I’m sure I will hate it.” Maverick interrupted, examining the torch slowly, hands gently tracing the metal as he spoke before meeting his eyes again, just as softly as before. "Let me know when you go." He made his way out, gadget in hand, before briefly pausing in at the door. “And thank you, Jordan.” With that, the blonde was gone. 

Thermite stared at the shut door for a few heartbeats. Or a few minutes, he couldn’t tell. 

“Thank _you._ ” It was whispered, long after Maverick had left, but he felt he needed to say it. Thermite was left standing there, tools not as neatly arranged, bandages stained, and his mind thinking of more disgustingly sweet things that might traumatize the quiet blonde, all the while a smile refused to leave his face.


End file.
